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traintracksTitle: Anything to Hide
Author:traintracks
Characters: Harry, Teddy (maybe pre-Harry/Teddy)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 100x11
Warnings: UST -- Teddy is sixteen.
Summary: Harry struggles to be a good godfather on the 9 3/4.
A/N: This is forsdkshelly because she feels shitty today. It's also written for ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
harry100's prompt, "Teddy". Also, forgive me if I've got the years and ages wrong. This is my first next gen, and I'm flying by the seat of my robes!
He’s got this cocky strut, sort of like Draco used to but friendlier. Still, I can’t help but suspect it covers for something he lacks. I watch him saying hello to his friends, slapping hands and employing an intricate grasping technique that must have its roots in Muggle punk culture.
I’m not sixteen anymore, and I’m terribly uncool. I was uncool *then*. At least, I think I was. This is the first time I’ve been back to the nine and three-quarters since…well, a lifetime ago.
This is the first time I’ve seen Teddy in a year, and guilt assails me.
His hair’s back to blue. Last time I saw him it was jet-black and he wore eye-liner to match. The make-up is gone now, but his eyes never needed it anyway in my opinion. But what do I know? What have I ever known? How to save the world. That’s it. Just the world. I’ve always been big picture. Ask me to remember to pick up milk or get the baby to stop crying and I’m rubbish.
I’ve been rubbish with Teddy. I’ve failed as a godfather. Even my own kids forget what I look like between visits, I think.
I watch Teddy lean against the bricks, his jeans a holey, nearly-rotten mess dangling from his hips. I smile. He’s got the body language of a Slytherin but the heart of a Gryffindor. I think of Sirius. They’re a lot alike: same arrogance and impulsivity – but inside them lives the sweetest soul they’d do anything to hide.
I walk over with Teddy’s bag, determined to do this right since his Gran’s gotten too old to see him off. Hermione and Ron have Hugo. James doesn’t start till next year. I’m the logical choice. Just not the reliable one.
Sirius would have been exactly what I needed had he lived. I doubt anyone else thought so. He seemed like a bad influence, like a giant twelve year-old, like someone *I* would have to watch out for rather than someone I could lean on. But that wasn’t the truth.
He felt all the love for me that an entire world withheld.
He made me believe I could be loved, and not because I was Chosen, but because I was *me*.
I haven’t been that, but I want to be that for Teddy. That has to count for something, right?
I watch him being unutterably smooth, making jokes with that crooked smile, a new earring glinting against his earlobe, and I’m filled with such compassion. I remember what it was like inside the warmth of Sirius’ arms. I remember how scared I felt of everything I was and everything I wasn’t. I wonder what fears lurk inside Teddy Lupin. And if someday he might let me hear about them.
I have a lot of time to make up. He’s almost a man. God, is he dating? I know next to nothing.
I drop the bag behind him, and he turns.
“Don’t want to be late,” I say and wince. A platitude-throwing ponce is not the kind of godfather I want to be.
But he smiles. “Right,” he says, picking up the bag. We’re the same height. Merlin… I simply hadn’t noticed before.
“Can I…talk to you? Over here?” I ask.
He glances at his friends, a goodly mix from all four houses, and in that moment I feel a misplaced pride. Misplaced because I’ve had nothing to do with him becoming the sort of person who chooses good friends. I’ve been nothing more than a door-to-door salesman in his life.
He follows me over to a pillar and looks at me like…well, like he really does want to hear whatever it is I’m about to say. But hell, *I* don’t even know! How does one cram sixteen years of great advice into five minutes on a noisy train platform? Do I even have any good advice to give?
I lick my lips, and he watches me intently. “What is it, Harry?” he asks, and his deep voice surprises me. My chest goes tight. He looks like he’s anticipating what I want to say before I know what it is myself.
I want to tell him trust yourself; be kind to your own heart; don’t study too hard; remember your friends; don’t try to look like everyone else but don’t hide behind a shock of blue hair either.
I want to tell him he can come to me, talk to me in the floo in the middle of the night.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to do everything alone.
Suddenly, he looks nervous. “Harry?”
I reach out and take him by the back of the neck. He shivers. I instantly know this is the wrong thing to do.
“I’d like you to come for Christmas,” I tell him, swallowing. He’s watching my mouth. I remove my hand quickly, and his lashes flutter. “Will you?”
“What?”
“Come for Christmas.”
He looks into my eyes again, his own dark and silver. He nods. “Yeah.”
I smile, and it feels fake and sick on my face. I should hug him, but it’s the last thing I want to do now. We stand staring at each other. His t-shirt’s dirty. I should have noticed that before. I can see through his shirt. I can see his breathing, his skin. I step back.
“You should go,” I say.
He steps toward me. I freeze. “Harry?”
“Yes?” My heart is doing crazy things in my chest.
“Thank you,” he says. The bag is slipping off his shoulder.
I decide I’m being an awful wanker and pull him into a hug. Not the kind I used to get from Sirius when I could feel his heart beating and his breath stirring my hair but a ridiculous one where I’m banging on his back like an ape.
Teddy suffers it, and when I pull back, he’s smiling at me. My fucking soul lurches to one side.
I watch him get on the train. I hear one of his friends murmur my name, a question. I hear Teddy murmur back: “…my godfather.” He turns and smiles at me, and I wave in return, feeling like a monster.
“Holy shit, dude,” his friend exclaims.
Even from here, I can see Teddy blush. “Yeah,” he says quietly with either embarrassment or pride, I can’t tell which.
I watch his blue head amongst the browns and the blonds and I want to run after him and apologize. For today, for yesterday, for the last year, the last ten.
I don’t.
Author:
traintracksCharacters: Harry, Teddy (maybe pre-Harry/Teddy)
Rating: PG-13
Words: 100x11
Warnings: UST -- Teddy is sixteen.
Summary: Harry struggles to be a good godfather on the 9 3/4.
A/N: This is for
sdkshelly because she feels shitty today. It's also written for harry100's prompt, "Teddy". Also, forgive me if I've got the years and ages wrong. This is my first next gen, and I'm flying by the seat of my robes!He’s got this cocky strut, sort of like Draco used to but friendlier. Still, I can’t help but suspect it covers for something he lacks. I watch him saying hello to his friends, slapping hands and employing an intricate grasping technique that must have its roots in Muggle punk culture.
I’m not sixteen anymore, and I’m terribly uncool. I was uncool *then*. At least, I think I was. This is the first time I’ve been back to the nine and three-quarters since…well, a lifetime ago.
This is the first time I’ve seen Teddy in a year, and guilt assails me.
His hair’s back to blue. Last time I saw him it was jet-black and he wore eye-liner to match. The make-up is gone now, but his eyes never needed it anyway in my opinion. But what do I know? What have I ever known? How to save the world. That’s it. Just the world. I’ve always been big picture. Ask me to remember to pick up milk or get the baby to stop crying and I’m rubbish.
I’ve been rubbish with Teddy. I’ve failed as a godfather. Even my own kids forget what I look like between visits, I think.
I watch Teddy lean against the bricks, his jeans a holey, nearly-rotten mess dangling from his hips. I smile. He’s got the body language of a Slytherin but the heart of a Gryffindor. I think of Sirius. They’re a lot alike: same arrogance and impulsivity – but inside them lives the sweetest soul they’d do anything to hide.
I walk over with Teddy’s bag, determined to do this right since his Gran’s gotten too old to see him off. Hermione and Ron have Hugo. James doesn’t start till next year. I’m the logical choice. Just not the reliable one.
Sirius would have been exactly what I needed had he lived. I doubt anyone else thought so. He seemed like a bad influence, like a giant twelve year-old, like someone *I* would have to watch out for rather than someone I could lean on. But that wasn’t the truth.
He felt all the love for me that an entire world withheld.
He made me believe I could be loved, and not because I was Chosen, but because I was *me*.
I haven’t been that, but I want to be that for Teddy. That has to count for something, right?
I watch him being unutterably smooth, making jokes with that crooked smile, a new earring glinting against his earlobe, and I’m filled with such compassion. I remember what it was like inside the warmth of Sirius’ arms. I remember how scared I felt of everything I was and everything I wasn’t. I wonder what fears lurk inside Teddy Lupin. And if someday he might let me hear about them.
I have a lot of time to make up. He’s almost a man. God, is he dating? I know next to nothing.
I drop the bag behind him, and he turns.
“Don’t want to be late,” I say and wince. A platitude-throwing ponce is not the kind of godfather I want to be.
But he smiles. “Right,” he says, picking up the bag. We’re the same height. Merlin… I simply hadn’t noticed before.
“Can I…talk to you? Over here?” I ask.
He glances at his friends, a goodly mix from all four houses, and in that moment I feel a misplaced pride. Misplaced because I’ve had nothing to do with him becoming the sort of person who chooses good friends. I’ve been nothing more than a door-to-door salesman in his life.
He follows me over to a pillar and looks at me like…well, like he really does want to hear whatever it is I’m about to say. But hell, *I* don’t even know! How does one cram sixteen years of great advice into five minutes on a noisy train platform? Do I even have any good advice to give?
I lick my lips, and he watches me intently. “What is it, Harry?” he asks, and his deep voice surprises me. My chest goes tight. He looks like he’s anticipating what I want to say before I know what it is myself.
I want to tell him trust yourself; be kind to your own heart; don’t study too hard; remember your friends; don’t try to look like everyone else but don’t hide behind a shock of blue hair either.
I want to tell him he can come to me, talk to me in the floo in the middle of the night.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to do everything alone.
Suddenly, he looks nervous. “Harry?”
I reach out and take him by the back of the neck. He shivers. I instantly know this is the wrong thing to do.
“I’d like you to come for Christmas,” I tell him, swallowing. He’s watching my mouth. I remove my hand quickly, and his lashes flutter. “Will you?”
“What?”
“Come for Christmas.”
He looks into my eyes again, his own dark and silver. He nods. “Yeah.”
I smile, and it feels fake and sick on my face. I should hug him, but it’s the last thing I want to do now. We stand staring at each other. His t-shirt’s dirty. I should have noticed that before. I can see through his shirt. I can see his breathing, his skin. I step back.
“You should go,” I say.
He steps toward me. I freeze. “Harry?”
“Yes?” My heart is doing crazy things in my chest.
“Thank you,” he says. The bag is slipping off his shoulder.
I decide I’m being an awful wanker and pull him into a hug. Not the kind I used to get from Sirius when I could feel his heart beating and his breath stirring my hair but a ridiculous one where I’m banging on his back like an ape.
Teddy suffers it, and when I pull back, he’s smiling at me. My fucking soul lurches to one side.
I watch him get on the train. I hear one of his friends murmur my name, a question. I hear Teddy murmur back: “…my godfather.” He turns and smiles at me, and I wave in return, feeling like a monster.
“Holy shit, dude,” his friend exclaims.
Even from here, I can see Teddy blush. “Yeah,” he says quietly with either embarrassment or pride, I can’t tell which.
I watch his blue head amongst the browns and the blonds and I want to run after him and apologize. For today, for yesterday, for the last year, the last ten.
I don’t.
